


Closer

by cadesama



Series: Roadtrip [2]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Cousincest, Cousins, F/M, Humor, My fondness for Zygerrian slavers strikes again, Road Trips
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-23
Updated: 2016-01-31
Packaged: 2018-05-15 16:05:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,873
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5791936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cadesama/pseuds/cadesama
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rey and Kylo Ren's little roadtrip to the stars hits a snag on the way to Tatooine. A Zygerrian pirate snag. Don't you hate getting captured to be sold as a slave? (Sequel to Masks)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Kylo Ren’s legs kept tangling with Rey’s.

It was not a situation he appreciated. Neither did she, judging from the number of times she’d managed to kick him.

The Zygerrians had dumped them into a cell more qualified for hydrospanner storage. Rey voiced the thought early on that perhaps it'd been a maintenance tunnel – enlarged, of course, since the ceiling was higher than others she'd been in. Ren had glared at her until she shut the kriff up because he didn't need to hear about how lucky they were that the cell wasn't as tiny as it could be.

The space was narrow enough that Ren found himself concentrating only on his breathing, on the hiss and whirr of the ventilation system as it cycled, on the tiny sliver of light under the door, occasionally broken by the footsteps of their captors. He concentrated on anything at all that indicated that they were not going to suffocate in a tool cupboard because Rey’s Jedi stubbornness dictated that they not kill everyone aboard the slave ship and, instead, allow themselves to be carted off to Zygerria Prime. Rey had made some noises about dismantling the slave empire from the inside, but Ren knew better. This was about him. She _knew_ this Zygerrian slaver scum righteously deserved the edge of his blade, but she wasn’t interested in giving him the satisfaction of their deaths.

He despised her. The taint of the Jedi she shouldered like it was an honor. He'd thought she was better than this, but everyone always disappointed him.

Ren stared at her across the minimal distance of their cell, eyes tracing the barely visible lines of her face. She’d closed her eyes, calming herself through the Force. When he looked at her, he felt a fracture in his mind. The before and after of his own failed Jedi training.

He listened to his own heavy exhalations, distant and echoing. He wanted to control them, but he just couldn't. Didn't know how.

“I find it absurd that you’re claustrophobic,” Rey said into the darkness.

He didn’t snap at her to stop taking up the oxygen.

“You. With that ridiculous mask you’re always wearing.”

Ren set his jaw. He didn’t see her point at all.

“The mask has its uses.”

“Oh, yes, I realize. It’s quite intimidating to your underlings. Terrorizes small children. Closes you in so you can’t see or smell or actually feel anything.” She cocked her head and opened her eyes. They caught the faint light from the crack under the cell door, shining as she smiled sweetly at him. “But that is the point, isn’t it?”

Ren shifted. The distance to the cell wall wasn’t enough for him to actually stretch out his legs, at least not without actually propping them against the wall in a thoroughly undignified position. He’d instead been sitting cross legged and now moved his legs to the side, kicking Rey’s knee as he did so.

“Don’t pretend you are enjoying this. The stifling air, slowly warming with another’s body heat, pressing in on you. You close your eyes, pretending the dark means we are in the vast of space. We’re in a tomb, Rey.”

Her hands were manacled above her, the same as his, but she managed a light shrug.

“It doesn’t bother me.”

Ren bared his teeth, angered by the obvious lie. He leaned forward as much as he could without breaking the bonds restraining him – tempting at it was.

“You crave the open sky.”

“You live in the dead of space and you hate every moment of it,” Rey returned. “Really, this should be a comfort to you.”

Ren sat back against the wall. His quarters on the _Finalizer_ were hardly luxurious. Efficiency dictated all the spaces in the First Order, carving out identical and unremarkable boxes for the officers. Larger, communal barracks for the Stormtroopers. Isolation bred individuality, so there was little enough space to get away from anyone. Physically, some small retreat was possible for him. Psychically, he felt the constant press of a million minds, joined to one cause.

He did find comfort in it. Steadiness.

Rey alone could not fill that void and the Zygerrians – he dismissed the thought in disgust. The little coterie of likeminded pirates had nothing on the gloriously singular First Order. There were too few of them, anyway.

Maybe, he considered, he did not dislike this small space. Maybe he hated the vastness of it.

She laughed softly.

“You’re so distractable.”

Rey actually sounded pleased – no, delighted. She’d occasioned to actually respond to him positively since they left Mustafar. It was intriguing.

“I thought I was a psychotic obsessive,” he said, curious at her change in assessment.

“Both,” she said firmly.

Well then. He glared at her in annoyance.

“I should hew true to type, then.” He unlatched his manacles, bringing his wrists down to rub at them, and then waved his hand at her restraints. She sent a quick flash of gratitude in the Force, accompanied by a warning. She knew what he intended by this. His lips twitched and he felt seized by a sudden mania. It washed away the fear of this unholy, dead, entirely too small place. He extended his hand to her in an offer. “Shall we end this farce?”

Rey eyed his hand and then sighed.

“Ben, no. They’re taking us exactly where we want to go.”

“We wanted to go to Tatooine,” he ground out.

“The Force wills us to do otherwise.”

Ren watched her, feeling a coil of rage around his heart. It didn’t suit her, this Jedi impassivity. It made her detestable and ugly and worthless –

He broke off the line of thought. Standing up, taking off his chains, _doing_ something had made him feel good. He wasn’t going to let Rey ruin this.

“You didn’t sell it. Your dear father,” he didn’t bother restraining the sneer, “does a better job aping the wisdom of the ancients.”

Rey’s damnable calm held. She gathered her knees to her chest and perched her chin on her arm, looking up at him mildly.

“You’ll have to wait, regardless. You aren’t tearing that door open with your bare hands.”

As if he couldn’t.

“Why do you want this? Are you that eager for another kill – Mustafar didn’t sate your bloodlust?”

That was enough to get her up in arms. Rey sprang to her feet, bumping into him before backing off the scant half meter afforded to her by their cell. Ren clenched his fists, trying not to feel how incredibly close she was. It was worse with them both standing, with anger glittering in her eyes. He could hear her quickened breathing.

“ _You_ were the one who initiated that! I did everything I could to stop them from killing each other.”

“Then why Zygerria? If we go now, we kill a few. Perhaps we make a bloodless escape, befitting a Jedi such as yourself.” He stepped forward, gulping back his fear to press her into the far wall. It wasn’t getting to her at all and he hated her, absolutely and with every part of himself, for that terrifying show of strength. He placed his hand on the wall, just next her head. Ren’s voice quieted, turning breathy despite himself, “If we go to Zygerria, we will fight our way off planet through _hundreds_.”

He closed his eyes. The thought was the only consolation he could reach for right now.

Rey’s hand on the back of his neck shocked him back to the present, eyes flying open. If he had his lightsaber, he would ignite it, just to see her properly. He could so often read her in the Force – that unbreakable Skywalker connection drawing him in – but now she was entirely opaque to him.

“I thought you wanted to retrace Vader’s footsteps,” Rey said. Her voice as soft as her touch. Ren had no idea what was going on here. She smiled faintly in the darkness, explaining, “Grandfather went to Zygerria too.”

Ren narrowed his eyes at her. This sounded like Anakin Skywalker nonsense, which he had very little interest in, lightsaber aside.

“There is no record of an Imperial mission to Zygerria,” he told her, words clipped.

“It was before the Empire.”

As he’d expected. He opened his mouth to tell her of the utter irrelevance of Grandfather’s Clone Wars era missions, only to have her cover it with her hand. Her other hand. She was now touching him with both, fingers threaded through the hair at the nape of his neck and against his mouth.

There was a very childish part of him that was tempted to stick out his tongue, to make her recoil in disgust. He’d done that to Lina Calrissian once – well, it’d been a slice of cake they were fighting over, but the effect had been exactly what he hoped to see on Rey’s face. Lina had pouted, cape swirling as she ran off to complain to Uncle Lando about how mean Ben was.

“You’re smiling,” Rey told him. She could feel his lips against her palm.

Ren grabbed her wrist and wrenched her hand down, squeezing tightly as an implicit threat. She didn’t seem to take it very seriously. She, unfortunately, had something of a point. Even if he wanted to fight, in a cell this small, he was robbed of his every physical advantage. His strength was matched by hers in the Force. Leverage, reach, and flexibility would also matter little in a scuffle within the cell.

All he had was his willingness to kill and there was a good chance he was outmatched there. She had something to go back to, after all.

“I don’t care about Zygerria. There’s nothing of importance there, even if Grandfather did visit once.”

Rey frowned at him, trying to puzzle him out. He thought it was perfectly obvious what his priorities were, especially after all the time they’d spent together.

“You want to know how Grandfather became Darth Vader, I thought. How you can become more like him,” she said slowly, watching his eyes for his reaction. Her brow creased briefly. “Being a slave was a big part of that.”

"A slave," Ren repeated.

Rey shifted, sensing the storm coming, but she had no weapon to reach for.

"A slave!"

The – his – outrage rang against the walls.

"Is that what you think I am?" he hissed out.

Rey's expression hardened, fear and sympathy both fleeing her.

"Yes," she replied simply.

Ren hadn't felt rage like this in a long time. He broke from her, backing away to card his hands through his hair. There was nowhere to go, nothing to vent his anger on. He snapped his head to the side and then back, teeth clenched as he banged his fist into the wall. He hit it until it crumpled under the strength of his anger, durasteel creasing into ungainly folds like a wadded up flimsiplast sheet. He ripped part of it down, throwing it to the floor between them. It was too loud for the small space.

"He was _loyal_ ," he snarled over his shoulder.

Rey was unmoved by the display. He couldn't possibly hate her more.

"No. He... was a slave." Rey paused, sorting deliberately through her thoughts; she made an attempt at his and Ren battered her away, shoving her mind away with psychic violence meant to hurt. She shook it off. "Ben, I'm not talking about his time serving the Emperor. I thought you knew."

He'd managed to expose wiring behind the cell wall. His eyes traced over it, aware that at least one cord probably held deadly voltage. Lucky that they were mid-ship. Some pirate vessels housed their prisoners in chilly, thinly defended cells next to the outer hull. The First Order had come across many that didn't even bother converting their airlocks – the better to vent their very disposable cargo, if they ended up in a tight situation.

Snoke had ordered all such ships summarily destroyed. It was entirely possible the First Order would find them and, all unknowing, kill them just as they'd killed so many others.

Ben calmed as he thought of the Supreme Leader, feeling more stable, even in this horrible little box of a room. Sacrifice was necessary to restore order to the galaxy. To cleanse it of such abominations before the Force.

"Perhaps you're right," he said. He heard her indignant huff; she disliked his mercurial temperament, just as he hated her constancy. Sure, it dovetailed with Jedi doctrine, but it left her trapped by inertia, simply _waiting_ until pushed. He turned fully, smiling at her in their dim, unpleasantly cramped cell, "I would like to hear more about Grandfather's life before."

Rey rolled her eyes.

"I'll try to feign surprise for you."

"It's curious, isn't it? How little the galaxy has changed. Slavers prowl the hyperlanes. Jedi try to indoctrinate small children, 'good' and 'evil' war with each other, and the galaxy spins on in chaos."

"And monsters in masks kill indiscriminately," Rey sniped back.

"The mask is back on the shuttle," Ren said. More to the point, "And I absolutely discriminate, cousin."

"I'm honored."

He reached out to touch two fingertips to her cheek.

"You should be."

Ren hadn't been able to suffer any other Jedi to live. With time, he hoped to turn Rey to his cause. Together they'd finally dispatch Luke Skywalker. She'd get it then, get him, once she'd slain her own father.

Rey grimaced, following his thoughts.

"Something to look forward to," Rey said lightly. She nodded toward the door. "I thought we were leaving."

The Zygerrians made the decision for them – at least, _one_ of their captors. A pity they hadn't sent more.

The cell door snapped open, bottom to top, and a thick set Zygerrian braced his hands on the doorjambs, electrowhip he'd used to subdue Ren earlier swinging at his hip. He blotted out the light of the hall. Without the Force, Ren was aware he'd be blinded by the shafts of light that haloed the Zygerrian.

As it was. Well. He'd hardly ever had that kind of problem.

"How did you get out of your restraints?" the Zygerrian demanded. He drew the electrowhip, uncoiling it with one hand. His sharp teeth were outlined by the light as he stepped into the cell. Ren glared at him. They didn't have the _space_ for another. "Who was it? Who let you out?"

Ren extended his hand and the whip leaped eagerly into it.

"Oh, honestly," Rey said behind him. She groaned loudly in annoyance.

The Zyggerian turned his attention to her and, before Ren could even thank her for the distraction, Rey was charging him. She grabbed the guard's shoulders, slamming him down chin first into her knee. She shoved him off just long enough to assess how conscious he was and then hit him again, a palm strike directly into his temple.

She tossed her head as she looked up at Ren and then gestured sharply to the door.

"Well?"

He did want to get the hell out of there. And yet.

"We should kill him."

Rey growled as she grabbed his hand, dragging him bodily from the cell. Later, Ren decided. Once she admitted how much she wanted them dead too. And after she explained what all this Grandfather was a slave nonsense was about.

 


	2. Chapter 2

“Feeling better?” Rey asked.

The Zygerrian guard convulsed on the deck, still lashed within the electrowhip. Ren tugged at it, a satisfied snarl on his face, and switched the weapon off. He all but flung it back onto his belt, eyes fixed on the man. His fur was matted with blood from where he’d struck his head, again and again, onto the grated floor plating, teeth bared and fingers clutching for his blaster.

Finally, he slipped into unconsciousness, body jolting one last time. His blaster fell with a clatter.

Ren looked to Rey, pleased.

“Actually, yes.”

Rey fought down her nausea.

“I’m glad. I didn’t relish watching you tear this ship apart with your bare hands – not while I’m still on it.”

Ren took a deep, enjoyable breath. Outside their cell, the ship was actually quite well lit. But for the bodies now littering the corridor – two more behind them dead and one unconscious – it was quite spacious. Not _Finalizer_ spacious, of course, but neither was his shuttle and he’d fared quite well in it for weeks now.

Being able to see the walls, the shape of where they were, made a significant difference to him.

“I’d never endanger you, cousin.”

She snorted indelicately.

"I suppose Starkiller slips your memory from time to time?"

"That's in the past," he snapped. "And I was never trying to kill you."

"No? And I suppose waving a lightsaber in my face for peaceful reasons doesn't count as 'endangering'?" she asked, eyes going wide and sarcastic.

Ren narrowed his eyes at her in irritation. He’d done quite well by her on their little journey, so far. He’d aided in saving the lives of the suicide cult on Mustafar and hadn’t killed their Zygerrian guards, but when it was unavoidable. He deserved more credit than she was giving him.

“I think you should explain,” he started, walking toward her, looming, “what you meant earlier. About Grandfather.”

“Precisely what I said. Do you really feel like this is the moment for elaboration? There are three more Zygerrians in our path, just beyond those doors, and a number of slaves we’ve yet to free. And I don’t think you are apt to take this conversation well,” Rey said. She tilted her head to look up at him, hazel eyes serious.

“You can tell me as we walk. Our captors will bear the brunt of my reaction, don’t worry.”

Rey didn’t bother responding. He felt the dismissal in the Force and fought down his own reaction. She’d love another example of how easily he lost control. It would prove her point, give credence to her manipulating tactic to withhold information. He fumed as he watched her brush past him to kneel beside the fallen Zygerrian.

She took up his blaster, turning it over in her hands and squinting at it as she decided whether to trade up for it. She seemed to find the electrowhips distasteful. Eventually, she nodded to herself, and tucked the blaster into her belt at the small of her back, keeping it as well as the whip. He would have had to chastise her otherwise: one didn’t just leave weapons around for one's enemies.

“Have you noticed that we rarely talk about anything other than Darth Vader?” Rey asked. She smoothly rose from her crouch, head cocked toward the door, half listening to the clatter of panicked guards on the other side.

“Well, we could talk about the location of the Resistance base,” Ren offered.

Rey’s laugh caught him off guard and he shared a quick smile with her, a twist of long forgotten emotion in his chest. He quickly pushed it aside.

The corridor ahead of them was a blank canvas of rust-red walls, ending in a double blast. Ren could feel two Zygerrians holed up behind the next door; the third was fleeing toward a larger cluster. He pondered the layout of the ship, wondering if it was the armory ahead of them or merely the hold. There were several prison cells located behind them, each with captives within. Rey had already insisted that they release the slaves and find them some kind of viable transport _before_ he blew the ship up, but he hadn’t made any promises.

Rey listened in on his contemplation. Her own mind spun with strategies, the best way to handle the situation they were in. The simplest solution would be to sweep the ship, killing all those that were in their way, but even Ren found that annoyingly inefficient.

"Cockpit is through the blast door, to the aft," Rey said, gesturing. She thumbed over her shoulder, back where they’d come from as she added, "Engine room and maintenance access should be on the port side, ventral location."

"You know this ship?"

Rey shook her head.

"I know ships. Generally."

Little else to do on Jakku, he imagined. Schematics were often the only remaining data after a hardwipe of a ship's central computer; a failsafe, making it possible for future repairs, not to mention resale or hardware. There was very little value to a part that no one could identify.

Ren, on the other hand, knew a few more specifics. Zygerrians were known patrons of the Chorlian shipyards, specializing in light, maneuverable freighters with powercells designed around maximizing the output of their weaponry. They'd been a thorn in the First Order's side for some time, largely because they coveted their own Queen too much to bow before Snoke. The Supreme Leader had more than once mourned the loss it was to his cause. It was sad that such a great and long lasting empire would burn to ash, but the galaxy demanded more than mere tradition. It demanded vision, which Snoke was ready to supply.

He clenched his hand into a fist. He was letting himself get distracted.

Chorlian ships had flawed power conduits – not that they advertised the fact. They could indeed maximize output for brief, terrifying attacks, but they almost always blew out their relays. The First Order had enough TIE fighters and enough skilled pilots to exploit that weakness. From within the ship, it would be easier.

"We need to head to the cockpit."

Rey looked at him like he'd lost his mind; it was refreshing that it was actually in response to something he'd said, rather than her default assessment.

"We should disable the weapons relays," Rey told him. She again pointed behind them, so where she suspected the maintenance access would be. "Then we should find their armory."

Ren's mouth twitched into a smile.

"You do want your lightsaber back, then."

She rolled her eyes.

"Or another weapon! Preferably with a stun setting and not quite so … brutal, by its natural," she said.

She had a point about the electrowhips. They lacked the elegance of a lightsaber, making up for their lack of range only in the sheer pain they dispensed.

“You dislike it when I use the whip?” he asked her.

Rey nodded sharply and pulled her stolen blaster out, offering it to him. He looked down at it in distaste. There were worse weapons, he presumed, but he’d never cared to learn them either. Regardless of Han Solo’s opinion of their trustworthiness.

He pushed the weapon back to her. If it bothered her so much, he could rely on the Force instead. There was a certain thrill to that anyway and he’d no reason to deny himself.

"We don't know that they have our lightsabers," Ren pointed out. "You said not to fight when they tractored us on board."

Rey's eyelashes fluttered as she closed her eyes.

"I can sense it. It's here.” Rey cocked her head as she opened her eyes, looking at him with some measure of disbelief – either that he couldn't sense his lightsaber or hadn't bothered to try. He glared back at her. “Near where they were holding us."

Foolish gamble, Ren thought. They assumed that rearming themselves in a crisis was worth potentially giving access to the very people causing the crisis. Then again, he and Rey had charged right past it without a thought.

"They must have searched your ship."

"How thorough of them," Ren replied dryly.

"Compromise: the armory and then the cockpit?"

Ren mulled it over. They hardly needed their weapons to seize control of the ships, but she did seem somewhat hesitant about relying only on a blaster. While he trusted in their combined power, he did prefer to fight from a point of advantage.

And lightsabers conveniently lacked stun settings.

"Lead the way," he said, graciously bowing and taking a step back.

Rey was less than impressed by his courtly manners – he filed away the idea of telling General Organa what a waste they'd turned out to be – and reached out in the Force again, eyes half lidded. It was easy now, he marveled. The lightsaber called to her and it echoed in the Force, a beacon even Ren could see, regardless of how little it wanted him. His own lightsaber burned dull and fetid next to it, a stain in the Force.

"And why do you think that is?" Rey asked, following his thoughts. Her eyes were now open, eyebrows raised and tone mocking.

"I couldn't say," Ren replied. "I haven't killed half the people Grandfather did with that blade."

He smiled as she startled, defensive against the accusation that she wielded a murder weapon. That was precisely why it belonged in his hands rather than hers – though he could admit that he wanted to see exactly what it was the blade would give to her, what it would take. It was less a lightsaber and more an omen.

"Don't tell me you can't sense it, cousin," he said, circling her, "The pain and blood imbedded on Grandfather's lightsaber, for all to sense. He killed children with it."

"And you didn't?" she accused.

Ren blinked rapidly. Sometimes it felt like he was running to catch up with her. She knew things she shouldn't, about him and their family, things Luke Skywalker never saw fit to tell him. And then there were moments like this, when he remembered that she was a lonely scavenger from a backwater planet who'd barely heard legends of the Jedi. She hadn't trained at the Temple. Or lived through the Senate's arguments about budgetary appropriations for it.

" _I_ was the only child at the Temple."

Rey looked confused. She often tried to pick at his memories for contradictions – of which there were all too many – but this was not one of them.

"You said Jedi try to indoctrinate children."

He glared at her.

"I wouldn't have spoken so generally if I'd known you'd misunderstand. My mistake. Jedi – meaning my uncle, your _father_ – tried to indoctrinate me. All the other Jedi were adults," he said, teeth snapping on the final consonant.

"You have my sympathy, then. What a nightmare."

"You have no idea what it was like." His lips pulled back into something like a snarl. He was fully aware that she was pulling away from him, put off by what she took to be mere whining. "Prince of a dead world. That's what I was. An object of fear, even as a child, because I could see what they didn't."

Rey looked at him and then away, but she couldn't hide the spark of curiosity in the Force.

"What did you see?" she asked grudgingly.

"We lived on Coruscant for years," he said. "Do you know where that is? It's the capital – or it was, because the Republic took up with this rotation nonsense. Another sign of their fear. They know they can't risk a single location because _we're_ too powerful. They knew that even before Starkiller."

Rey cleared her throat and Ren righted his thought process.

"It's an ancient planet. Layers of civilization and death. Can you imagine it, Rey? How boneyards feel when you're that young?"

There was a tendril of sympathy in the Force, twisting upwards like a wisp of smoke. She did know. The Battle of Jakku had cost millions of lives. Even if she hadn't known that was what haunted her sleep as a child, it was clear enough now. Multiple it, he sent to her. The Battle of Coruscant, fought several times over millennia. The Jedi purge. Riots and dozens of massacres, and a planet seeped in pain and death just by virtue of the number of people living on it.

Ben's memories of Coruscant were an unthreaded jumble. He knew all of what had happened, could still feel the ache and sickness of it, but it never formed a linear narrative to him. His off planets memories were much stronger – he could, sometimes, almost forgive his mother for choosing to send him away.

"We lived in the Imperial Palace at first. It had been the Jedi Temple – where Grandfather lived nearly all his life."

"Where the Jedi died. The first time."

Snoke said he was weak for letting it affect him. He could remember those first whispers. Death should make him stronger. There was something wrong with him that it got to him, gnawed at him. That he couldn't sleep in the place his family was destined to rule from.

So he didn't. He stayed up nights and listened.

"Is that when it started?"

His eyes had gone unfocused and he had to shake himself to recover, to look down at Rey, her face carefully composed, though a hint of sympathy tugged her mouth into a slight frown.

"What started?" he asked defensively. Of course it was where it started. He'd be nothing without Snoke, without the strength he'd sent to Ren and the guidance.

"The obsession with Darth Vader."

Ren's lips twitched into a smiling sneer and he half bowed to her.

"Good call, dear cousin. I was a problem for the great Chancellor of the Republic, fascinated by all the wrong things. So she sent me away. Her political life was easier with me gone and, oh, she could tell herself the Force would make me right." Ren spread his arms wide. "And it did."

She looked at him sadly.

"Don't you mean Snoke did?"

Ren straightened.

"Of course."

She of all people had no right to question his loyalty.

"How old were you?" Rey asked.

"Nine."

Rey examined his face, nodding to herself. The Force shuddered with the tumult of everything she felt; her Jedi attempt to push it away for once failing.

After a beat, she added, "I can't say I care."

Liar.

"You had everything and you ruined it for no reason at all."

She held his gaze for a long moment, letting him feel every ounce of resentment in her. He hadn't cost her that life, no matter what she thought. If there was someone for her to hate, it was Skywalker. He'd been the one to leave her.

Rey's jaw went tight as she heard that thought. Incapable of denying it, she instead pointed back toward where they'd come from. "The armory is near the cells for the slaves. And yes, this does mean you won't stop me from rescuing them."

Ren smiled at the gesture. Daddy's girl, always planning to play the hero.

"I care little either way."

They walked a few meters in silence, backtracking to the prison area. None of the Zygerrians Rey had dispatched through less lethal means had yet to awaken, which was nothing less than a disappointment. Ren truly would have liked to remind her how worthless that strategy was.

The blastdoor ahead of them took several seconds too long to unseal and Ren pounded the controls again, willing it to go faster. He could feel Rey's eyes on him; she thought it was funny.

"We were trying to talk about something other than Grandfather," she reminded him when the door finally slid open.

Ren stepped over the threshold, the tails of his robe dragging on the upraised doorjamb.

"We weren't."

She rolled her eyes.

"I was." It was a ploy to endear her to him, to seduce him back to the Light. Utterly transparent. "Alright, so no more questions about the Jedi. Or dead worlds you rule over. What about the rest of your childhood?"

Ren scoffed. She was angling to hear positive memories – which even he could admit existed. But he wasn't going to talk about that.

"Oh yes, that sounds terrible," she said, pretending he'd replied. "Me, it was rather lonely, as you know. Lots of sand. What about the first ship you flew?"

"A YT class freighter. You may have some familiarity with it."

There was a pleased glint in Rey's eyes that he hadn't at all meant to provoke. He paused before the next door, pretending that he was trying to sense who was beyond it. He and Rey were already fully aware of the two guards who had mustered to that position. Even without the Force, their words were barely hushed by the metal between them and their adversaries.

"That ship is rather difficult to fly alone," Rey said lightly.

Ren ground his teeth together. She was angling to find out when he'd first flown the _Falcon_ and with whom. He honestly didn't remember, and not even for the usual reason of how distorted and foggy many of his pre-Snoke memories were. It was simpler than that. He'd started flying with his parents before he could remember, typically in his mother's lap while his father took the main controls, but often the reverse as well.

He wasn't going to tell Rey that.

"Not," Ren bit out, "with the Force."

"The first ship I flew – really flew, not just in simulation – was a cobbled together Ghtroc 690. I spent months looking for parts, saving them instead of trading them to Unkar." She smiled faintly. "I was so hungry, but it was worth it, just to get it up in the air."

He felt a dull ache of horror, disappointment, in who she always was.

"You didn't fly away from Jakku."

"No. My friends … I suppose I can call them that. They stole the ship. I planned to sell it rather than fly it, so that was fair enough." Rey looked away from him, brow furrowing a bit as she listened to the Zygerrians. They sounded rather frantic. "Shall we get to it?"

Ren left his whip on his belt, while Rey readied her blaster. It was an ugly weapon, but she was loath to do without. It wasn’t for lack of confidence; he knew that much. She simply refused to let a resource go unused. He’d had more luxury in his life. He could choose the Force, above and beyond any other weapon. It was what he always chose.

Flicking his fingers toward the controls, he opened the door. The two Zygerrians immediately stumbled back into the hall. One, red furred and stout, squared up as soon as he laid eyes on Rey, taking her for an easy mark. The other, weedier, a bit grayed and old, assuming that stood for an age marker among Zygerrians as well, shot his companion a frantic look before dropping his weapon and pelting down the hall.

“You take him,” Ren told Rey. He reached into the Force to haul the battle ready one closer. Fear filled his eyes as he struggled against Ren’s hold: a futile gesture. “I’ve got this one.”

Rey didn’t argue the point. Her shoes clapped loudly on the deck as she chased the other Zygerrian down. Ren felt the Force flow through her, a positive charge and then negative, as she followed his lead, grabbing the guard and throwing him into a wall. A couple of shouts, and then she fired a stun blast, finishing it.

Ren watched his guard’s eyes as they both listened. Fear mounted, seeping into the Force, and Ren deliberately stepped closer to the man, into his psychic shadow. He kept trying to pull away, to turn and see what Rey was doing. A stunned man was a vulnerable man and slaves always had plenty of grievances. The Zygerrians knew what they did, the risk of it.

The guard deserved this fear.

“She’s not going to kill him,” Ren reassured the guard. He knew it would do nothing of the sort. He could feel a frantic terror building in the man and tightened his grip, cutting short even the tremors of his hands.

Peering past the Zygerrian’s shoulder, he could even see that Rey had produced binders from somewhere, perhaps they were his own, and was securing him so he couldn’t retaliate when he awoke. Ren settled back on his feet, looking back at his own captive. He contemplated the man for a moment longer before sighing. He reached into the Force, clenching his fist to crush the man’s airways.

He crumpled to the deck, gasping as he died.

_These are the things you need to be._

Sometimes he didn’t know if he heard Snoke or merely imagined what he would say, were he here. It hardly mattered.

“Was that necessary?” Rey asked.

Ren found himself once more at her side, casting a look down at her. She dusted her hands on her knees, rising easily from the crouch she’d been in.

“You know it was,” he told her. “You knew they’d alert others. With numbers and preparation, they might be a serious threat.”

“To us?”

He nudged the bound Zygerrian with his toe.

“You obviously agree.”

Rey could have argued about his methods, but it had already become a tedious topic for both of them. Instead, she nodded to the corridor that would take them to the armory. Their progress was slow enough already. He nodded briskly, following her as she took the lead.

“First kiss?” she prompted.

Ren tripped on his own robes and almost smacked head first into the nearest wall. He caught himself, hands against the grated deck, and found her smiling sweetly down at him, hand extended to help him up. He brushed it aside and managed to get several paces ahead of her before she caught up.

He cast her an angry, sidelong glance.

“Lina Calrissian,” Ren guessed.

He shoved away the uncertainty. It wasn’t a guess. He didn't guess at his own memories. He’d kissed Lina Calrissian at a birthday party. That was it. She hadn’t been distressed that he’d taken a piece of cake she wanted. She’d been angry at the stolen kiss. It all made sense.

Rey shook her head marginally, eyes serious and focused on him. He stopped walking to cross his arms, challenging her to explain what her problem was now.

“You don’t sound sure.”

“I am. How about you?” he asked nastily, “Was I your first kiss?”

Rey flushed slightly, but glared back at him.

“Yes,” she replied.

He tried not to smile.

“Who else would it have been? Unkar?”

That was an unnecessary image.

“You know who. One of your little Resistance friends.”

Ren had to admit, it was good to know that she wasn’t that close to them after all. No matter the number of times he caught her thinking of them.

Rey raised her chin, arms crossed over her chest.

“I’d rather it had been any of them instead of you.”

“Sensitive topic,” Ren said mockingly. “Perhaps you shouldn’t have brought it up.”

She smiled unexpectedly, light catching in her eyes. He forced himself to look away, frowning toward the host of Zygerrians holed up in the armory. Her dedication to keeping them alive might well injure her if he didn’t take measures.

“It was worth it for your expression. I’ll have to thank them,” she said, chin lifting to the door, “for forgetting your mask.”

Wasn’t she just a precious treasure, he thought with a mental eye roll.

“You’ll have to kill them.”

“I’ve killed before. Often enough, even for your tastes.”

He moved his hand to tangle her fingers with hers, squeezing them quickly.

“I’m entranced by your hypocrisy, as always.”

Rey jerked her hand away from him. Apparently that was going too far.

“You may be my cousin and I may have agreed to be here,” Rey started, anger mounting in her. Ren stared at her in fascination, “But you have no right to talk about who I am.”

She hadn’t agreed to be with him, as a matter of fact. She’d merely failed to take any opportunity to escape, though there had been myriad. He was charmed by the fact that she would put it in such a way. After a moment, he realized she was waiting for a response from him.

He nodded, at a loss for words.

“And I don’t know who you are to speak of hypocrisy!” she added. She threw he hand out, gesturing to the ship around them. “You are nothing if not a hypocrite.”

“Wouldn’t that make me an expert?” he asked. His interest was quickly dissipating, changing to irritation at her unwarranted attack. “Precisely what am I so hypocritical about?”

“This! Where we are! You hate these people – abhor slavery – but you fight for Snoke to enslave people every day!”

Ren stepped back from her, shaking his head. That made no sense. Snoke might have wished an alliance with the Zygerrians, but he wasn’t a slaver. He was nothing so base and it was disgusting that she’d lay such an accusation on the only true leader that the galaxy had seen since the fall of the Empire.

He tried to pry into the line of her thoughts, only to have her violently rebuff him. He was torn between confusion and outright anger.

“Is this about your traitorous Stormtrooper friend?” he hazarded. He honestly didn’t see where she was getting this.

Rey punched the door controls. A dozen armed and angry Zygerrians snapped to attention, weapons coming to bear, as the door slid open.

“Just shut up and fight.”

 


End file.
